"No? Then what would you do, Beast, had you my shard in your hand?"

He lets that sit for a moment, before continuing, tone blasé for the most part but with that definite edge to it still lingering (the imagined-forest is dark now, no more sunlight-through-leaves. The air is cold - Garlemald-in-depths-of-winter cold - with a faint smell of copper and ash. The baying hounds, distant now, sound more like wolves)

"Or do you perhaps not meant to claim it at all? I can find other amusement, paltry though it may be by comparison." This part of the dance should be familiar to her, at least. "Legacy by Legacy, perhaps. Should the Innocents be first or last, do you think?"